


Underhanded Tactics

by todisturbtheuniverse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Flirting, Football | Soccer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todisturbtheuniverse/pseuds/todisturbtheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a flutter of nerves in her stomach, the kind that always hung around when he touched her or looked at her or whenever she thought about him, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underhanded Tactics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flutiebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear/gifts).



> Prompted by flutiebear on Tumblr: You know me, I’d do anything for a Carver/Merrill or Bethany/Varric ficlet. And since I’m in a World Cup kind of mood — how about a modern AU in which they go on a date to a soccer game?

Merrill didn’t really see the point of all this, but she smoothed her borrowed jersey down just the same. It drowned her; Carver was decidedly bigger in the shoulders than she was. The garment fell halfway to her knees.

But Carver grinned when he saw her, for all the world like she  _wasn’t_ wearing a burlap sack. “You look great,” he told her, only a little bit of pink in his cheeks, and dropped a hat to her head.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked up at him. “You’re in a fine mood,” she commented, smiling.

"There’s a lot to be happy about," he said—a touch evasively, as always—and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, we’re going to be late."

They weren’t going to be any such thing, but she let him steer her away from the car and toward the stadium. Most everyone else was still tailgating, drinking cheap beer and eating just-cooked sausages, but Carver seemed eager to get to their seats. She watched the people on their way in, and when they got boring, she watched Carver.

There was a flutter of nerves in her stomach, the kind that always hung around when he touched her or looked at her or whenever she thought about him, really. She’d hoped that would go away by now—this was their third date, after all—but the butterflies had become griffons, flapping away in her belly. She wanted to scold them, but she thought Carver might look at her oddly for that.

Creators, he already looked at her oddly. He caught her staring at him, for example, and a puzzled smile unfolded on his face, a question in his blue, blue eyes. She shook her head, blushing, and pulled the bill of her hat further down her forehead. Unlike the jersey, it fit her, she realized. She wondered if he’d bought it just for her.

The griffons became dragons. She was a mess.

They bought drinks and food—she tried to pay her share, but he waved her off with an offended little frown—and made their way to their seats. The stadium was still largely empty. They settled into their seats, and Merrill hoped her stomach would quiet enough to let her eat her food. She sipped her soda for the moment, eyeing the couple a few rows in front of them. The girl looked rather familiar.

Startled, she nudged Carver. “Isn’t that Bethany?”

And at that very moment, Bethany turned to the side, smile wide on her face, and kissed her date, totally unaware that her twin brother was gaping at her from a few dozen feet away.

"Maker," Carver groaned, pulling the bill of his hat over his eyes. "I know she has a life, I just don’t want to  _see_ it.”

"She’s safe with Varric, though," Merrill said sensibly. The dragons had settled enough for her to steal a chip from Carver’s carton. "He’s very nice."

Carver, quick as ever, reached out to grab her wrist before she could pop the chip in her mouth. “You have your own chips,” he teased.

"Yours looked better," she said primly, and he spluttered, coughed, and forgot all about his twin sister and her date.

Merrill had never been to a football match before, and she’d spent her childhood traveling, which didn’t lend any particular loyalty to certain towns. She still cheered, though, whenever the Lothering Mabaris scored against Varric’s team, the Kirkwall Champions. Carver was so invested. It seemed polite, given that she was wearing his jersey. Besides, she didn’t like Kirkwall’s underhanded tactics.

When they left hours later, flushed with victory, Carver draped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side as they darted through the crowd. “That was a crackerjack of a match,” he said, for the tenth time, and everyone near them wearing a Mabaris jersey vehemently agreed, just like the last nine times.

They rested their voices while he drove her home. Merrill was half-hoarse from all the shouting. She didn’t think she’d ever shouted so much in her life. And she still wasn’t sure she understood any of it, but she would go again. It had been, at the very least, entertaining.

Carver parked outside her apartment and turned to look at her, and then, grinning, he reached out to pull her across the seat. He tipped up the bill of her hat and kissed her, and her knees turned to jelly just like the last nine times. Victory made him brave. She’d have to remember that.

"Would you like to come in?" she stammered out, when he finally let her go. He was red in the face, too, which made her feel a little more at ease. "I have, um…tea. And water."

His blue eyes laughed at her. “Tea sounds nice,” he said, then winced and rubbed at his throat. “Maybe with honey and lemon.”

"I have those, too," she said, relieved, and he gave her that puzzled smile again, but she was beginning to believe that he  _liked_ being confused by her.

That was good. It was bound to happen again, after all.


End file.
